Nightshade Renegade
by Senvalox
Summary: Belladonna Shepard's reputation for her reckless and lascivious attitude earns her everything from admiration to contempt across the galactic scene. Beneath the blasé exterior, however, a competent leader steps up time and again to defend her own in the fateful events that define her legacy.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning(s):** _Triggering chapters. Graphic (and violent) depictions of alien-human fornication__. Instances of femslash and dubcon. Read at the peril of your sanity._

**Chapter 1**

Shepard rummaged through the articles of clothing strewn about the floor, tossing aside a pair of sheer panties that didn't belong to her and muttering a curse as the pounding in her head grew stronger by the second. Droplets of water dripped from her short black hair as it clung to the nape of her neck, having been left to air dry after she finished stumbling around in the shower and failed to locate a clean towel. Brushing her damp side bangs from her face, she finally found her left boot hiding under a skintight shimmery leotard that still smelled of perfume and sweat.

She gripped the edge of the nearby dresser to steady herself as she slipped the boot on and made a halfhearted attempt to tie the laces with one hand. A ray of artificial sunlight streamed through a tear in the closed shutters and assaulted her sensitive retinas when she made the mistake of facing the direction of the large window. Groaning, she gave up on making her footwear–or her entire appearance, really–presentable and dragged herself toward the front door. Her usual grace and balance had fled in the wake of her hangover, and she tripped unceremoniously on a pair of high heels that she had been trying to step over.

The noise roused movement from the bed at the far side of the room. Shepard straightened from where she'd caught herself on the kitchen bar and glanced back to see the sleepy but satisfied faces of the two women she'd taken home the previous night. The asari was one of the most coveted strippers of Chora's Den and the blonde human was a highly popular bartender from Flux. Both smiled at her brightly as they rubbed their eyes, and damned if Shepard couldn't recall either of their names.

"Uh… I have an unexpected meeting to get to, but please make yourselves at home and don't wait up," Shepard told them, maintaining her poker face even as her head threatened to split open.

"A meeting? Why don't you skip it so we can continue where we left off last night?" the asari cooed, sitting up and letting the blanket fall to bestow the commander with a generous view of her large breasts.

Shepard's deep blue eyes drifted hungrily to the bait, but she didn't bite. "As enticing as that sounds, I'm afraid I can't this time. But I'll call you." _Even though I'm not exactly sure which one you are in my list of asari contacts._

"What about me?" the blonde piped up with a flirty pout.

"Don't worry, I won't forget about you," Shepard said with what she hoped looked like a laidback grin.

Leaving the women behind, she stepped outside her apartment and shielded her vision from the unyielding brightness of the fluorescent lights. A few of her neighbors passed by and chuckled, very much used to seeing the commander's bedraggled state after an evening of wanton pursuits. Others shook their heads in disapproval as she trudged past them, unappreciative of her frequent contributions to the negative image of the 633 Block.

The hum of chatter did nothing for her headache, and she forced herself to return a few greetings from some friendly acquaintances while following the aroma of brewing coffee through the corridors. It led her to a small café on the way to the shuttle bay. The turian barista saw her coming and had her cappuccino ready by the time she slumped on her elbows over the counter.

"Rough night?" he asked genially.

"No. Fantastic night, rough morning," she grumbled as she gazed down at the steaming cup. "Could I trouble you to turn this into a frappuccino? That way it can double as an icepack for my head."

"No problem, Commander," the barista replied with a laugh.

The frozen beverage was pressed against her temple during the half hour ride to the Presidium. As she stepped off the shuttle, she brought the straw to her mouth and took several unenthusiastic sips, hoping her stomach didn't decide to regurgitate the liquid in the middle of the meeting. That would go over well.

To those who didn't know her or had never served on a mission with her, Commander Shepard's presence in the Alliance Navy was a galactic mystery. Her representation of the military was less than flattering, as she often strutted around in attire similar to today's mess: casual clothes that were wrinkled and slightly musty, unlaced combat boots that threatened to send her sprawling face first into the pavement, and hair that was still dripping wet and soaking into her collar. She had received a remarkable number of disciplinary citations throughout her career, mostly for running her mouth at superior officers. She had also been known to find the prospect of being court-martialed or dishonorably discharged amusing.

To those who did know her, Commander Shepard had justified her rank and position dozens of times over in the line of fire.

She continued her stroll through the Presidium, earning a few attentive gazes on her way. A tall, muscular woman of Eurasian heritage, she stood out among the human populace of the Citadel through her confident posture and enthralling sapphire eyes. Her strong build, small chest size, and short hair sometimes gave her a male appearance from certain angles, but her face was undeniably feminine. Her stride was unhurried, almost leisurely, and some would say her devil-may-care attitude was fairly impressive. Especially considering that she was heading straight toward the Citadel Tower.

Still drinking her frappuccino, she waved to one of her past endeavors, a beautiful asari diplomat who had schooled her in erotic flexibility during the one time Shepard had been able to lure her into her bed. The diplomat shot her a peeved look and turned away quickly. That was fine. She could play the discreet game. Shepard still had a log of her recent suggestive messages and knew it was only a matter of time before she showed up at her front door again.

Whether it was due to the caffeine or the walk through open air, Shepard could feel the pressure in her skull ease up a bit. And the individual who emerged from the entrance to the Tower instantly uplifted her mood.

"Nihlus," she called out, a genuine smile spreading over her face. "I didn't know you were back on the Citadel."

Bright green eyes locked with hers, and the turian's mandibles twitched in what she had come to recognize as amusement when he took in her disheveled hair and clothing. "I just arrived about an hour ago. What brings you to the Tower looking like that?"

She came to a stop in front of him and shrugged. "I received a request for a meeting. At five in the morning. While I had two gorgeous women sleeping next to me. So you can imagine the reason for my lack of effort."

Nihlus' brow ridge rose in surprise. "_Two?_"

She laughed and said, "Yeah. You know me with the ladies. This was bound to happen eventually."

He was staring at her intently, his expression masked beneath his white markings. "Did that night with me put you off men forever?" he asked in a lowered voice.

Her lips parted as she blinked up at him. Images of raw passion and wild lovemaking from a few months back came rushing to the forefront of her mind, bringing with them a heat that crept over her face, among other areas. It was a few moments before she sputtered, "What? No, of course not."

"But you've rejected my advances since then," he stated.

"Well… you know my preferences lean a little more toward females," she told him hesitantly, bringing the straw back to her mouth and glancing at everything but him.

An uncomfortable silence hung over them until the elevator door behind Nihlus slid open and a group of diplomats chatting amongst themselves stepped out.

He cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation another time."

"Agreed."

"Also, you should probably zip up your pants."

And just like that, the tension between them was gone. Her good humor returning, she reached down to close her fly. "You caught me. I'm hoping to piss off Councilor Sparatus enough to deter him from calling on me again while I'm off duty."

"Ah. I should have known he was the responsible party," Nihlus chuckled. He stepped aside so she could catch the elevator before it was summoned back to the top. "Shepard," he added when she moved to operate the panel. "Meet me at the Dark Star Lounge in Zakera Ward tonight around eight. We have some catching up to do."

The insinuation in those last words was not lost on her. She felt her pulse quicken even as she sent him a casual grin. "See you then."

Once the door closed, her grin disappeared and she brought the beverage up to cool her face.

It had been about three weeks since the last time they had seen each other, and the struggle to bring their friendship back down to the platonic level was becoming more difficult. She took sole responsibility for that, having finally given herself to him during a state of heavy intoxication after months of his expressed interest. The experience had been incredible, especially since she didn't bed males of any species very often, but there was a specific reason she had been reluctant to pursue the liaison.

And as the elevator reached the floor containing the turian councilor's office, that very reason looked up from the datapads on his desk to pin her with a venomous glower. She left the elevator and passed through his open doorway, paying no heed to the smirking guards stationed on either side. Her irritation was evident in the way she sauntered into the office, looking very unprofessional as she continued to drink her melting frappuccino.

Councilor Sparatus looked suitably infuriated. "Shepard!" he barked. "You're late! And what is the meaning of your appearance?"

"Councilor, I'd like to remind you that I'm on shore leave. You called me in the early hours of the morning while I was… preoccupied," she declared in annoyance. "You're lucky I even showered before coming here. Now please tell me what I can do for you."

Sparatus' left eye twitched as he pushed a button on his terminal that closed the automated door behind her. She stiffened at the sound of the lock clicking into place. He held her gaze as he rose to his feet, picking up a datapad from the pile he had been working on.

"I called you here to ensure you hadn't forgotten our agreement," he said. "Now that a certain Spectre has returned."

Shepard bristled. "Nihlus and I haven't had relations of that nature since my slip-up."

"Yes." He frowned as he drew closer to her. "Instead, I can smell your relations with half the women on the Citadel."

She snorted. Surely that was an exaggeration. She may have lost count, but she wasn't _that_ lascivious. And some of them didn't even sleep with her.

Sparatus refrained from commenting further and held out the datapad, staying silent as she cautiously took it and read the contents. Brow furrowing, she said, "I don't understand. I thought you had been trailing those slavers for nearly a year. You're telling me your team completely lost track of them?"

"It's unfortunate, but yes," he replied shortly.

A surge of anger shot through her, and she shoved the datapad back at him. She should have known. Although he had initially convinced her that working with him to find the batarian slavers that had attacked Mindoir would bring faster results than relying on the Alliance, his investment in the search was minimal at best. And considering what she had to go through to guarantee his continued assistance, it hadn't been worth it.

"Well, then I guess our deal's off, isn't it? Thank God, now I won't have to deal with your ugly mug as often—"

His hand shot out to seize her arm tightly, the talons digging into her flesh. "Not so fast, Shepard," he hissed, sharp eyes boring into hers. "There is another matter to discuss."

She grunted as his claw-like appendages pierced through skin. "Discuss away, then." _Prick._

He released her and tossed the datapad back onto the desk. "The Council has chosen you as a candidate for the Spectres," he announced and watched for her reaction.

Rubbing her arm, she scowled. "What? Why?" she demanded.

He paused for a few seconds, gazing at her in calculation. "You will have to ask the other councilors because I oppose it. Your species isn't ready for this type of undertaking, and won't be until your next evolutional stage," he ground out in a scornful tone.

It took all her willpower to keep from rolling her eyes. "Well, why are you the one telling me?" she asked instead. "I mean, if they wanted me to find out from the most disgruntled council member, then I suppose I see why, but—"

"Because it ties in to our agreement," Sparatus snapped. "For your mentor, the asari councilor nominated Nihlus Kryik. The salarian councilor is undecided. I nominated Saren Arterius."

Shepard's jaw clenched. Her multiple clashes with the anti-human Spectre were common knowledge throughout the Citadel. "I already see where this is going," she muttered. "Forget the whole thing. I'm not interested in becoming a Spectre."

"Ah, but apparently your Captain Anderson is elated and is expecting you to step up for humanity and such. How disappointed would he be if his upcoming XO refuses the honor on the spot?" Sparatus' mandibles flared in a malicious turian smile.

She suddenly felt like flinging her frappuccino straight at his head. Captain Anderson was one of the few people she had utmost respect for, and if this was something he wanted for her, she couldn't let him down. It was aggravating how easily Councilor Sparatus could use that to his advantage. There was no comprehensible reason for him to stretch out their arrangement this far. She couldn't begin to guess his motivation, other than maybe some perverse delight in tormenting her. Out of all the humans in the galaxy, it had to be her.

"So assuming that you accept the Spectre candidacy, my… _request_ is simple," Sparatus began. "Continue with the terms of our agreement and I will not sway Councilor Valern to my choice for your mentor—"

He was interrupted by the sound of loud, obnoxious slurping as Shepard drank the last of her beverage through the straw, feigning boredom. His temper finally snapped. With an outraged growl, he charged her and swatted the cup out of her hand while closing a grip around her throat. She barely batted an eyelash at his aggression. The dark blue pools of her irises stared up at him fearlessly, drowning his impulse to kill her and replacing it with a very different type of desire. Out of everything he hated about her, he loathed her beautiful eyes the most.

"If you're so keen on using that mouth to suck on something, then get down on your knees," he snarled, wrapping his free arm around her to crush her to him. Underneath the smell of coffee, soap, and the lingering essences of her most recent partners, he caught the floral quality of her unique scent. It enveloped him and stirred his loins even as her defiant expression persisted.

"Fuck you. I'm finished playing your depraved game." The words tumbled from her full lips, which he immediately bent forward to nip at with his sharp teeth. She made a small sound and tried to put some distance between them, but his hold on her kept her in place. She felt his talons on the small of her back, poised to impale her spine if she kept trying to retreat from him.

"If you allow Kryik to touch you again," he murmured harshly against her lips, tasting the metallic hint of her blood, "I will make sure his Spectre status is in jeopardy. And should you 'slip-up' one more time with him or any other male…" His left hand snaked down from her throat to trace three raised scars across her ribs beneath her fitted shirt. "I will ravage you in ways that no amount of medi-gel or mental therapy can heal."

She tore her head away and cursed her traitorous nether region when it responded to his hardness slipping free of its sheath and grinding against her through their clothing. "Even if I accept the candidacy, our deal is over. Make all the threats you want."

He grabbed a fistful of her damp hair and yanked it viciously. "I don't believe you want that as your final answer."

"For someone who despises humans as much as you do, you sure like fucking one an awful lot."

"Only you, Shepard."

And then he was all over her, backing her up against the wall and tearing her shirt open, unmindful of the slashes his talons raked into her, while dragging his rough tongue up her neck. Her breath came in shallow pants, eyes focused on the ceiling as her body betrayed her through its burgeoning arousal. He made short work of her sports bra by shredding it to pieces and was about to concentrate his attention on the soft mounds of flesh humans called breasts, but he drew back at the sight of the numerous red bruises dotting the expanse of her chest. At his hesitation, she glanced down at her torso.

"They're hickeys. Love bites." Her challenging smirk provoked something primal within him. "Others have staked their claim on me."

He growled gutturally, threateningly, and dragged her from the wall to throw her onto the sofa next to his desk. Her untied boots dropped to the floor and she tried to roll away, but he pounced on her and sank his teeth into her shoulder as instinctual possessiveness blinded him with rage. He hadn't been this violent with her ever since his discovery that she'd slept with Nihlus, and she wondered briefly if it was jealousy rather than the sadistic need to control her that incited his reactions. She dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come, almost laughing despite herself at the ludicrous idea.

She winced when his jaws released her, leaving deep, bloody punctures that would eventually join her collection of scars. He pinned her arms over her head with one hand when she attempted a punch made clumsy by her returning headache. With his knee he forced her legs apart and effortlessly ripped through the front of her pants and underwear. To her credit, she hadn't uttered a peep as he stripped and assaulted her, but when he shoved one talon into her roughly, she yelled out in pain.

"I should amend the terms and forbid you from engaging in your lustful trysts altogether," Sparatus rasped, turned on even further by the way she arched her back, biting her lip in a tortured expression. There was something exceedingly arousing about forcing the great Commander Shepard to submit to him. She, known widely not as a seductress but as a seducer, who tempted other women with her charm and androgyny, now writhed helplessly beneath him as he moved his talon in and out of her wet tightness. It became too much for him.

"_Ow!_" she gasped when he abruptly withdrew his talon and nicked her entrance. "Bastard!"

He smacked her across the face hard enough so that she saw stars, and he quickly removed his own clothing while she was disoriented. The entire length of his member was engorged and ready, and as he climbed back on top of her, he was pleased to see that she had run out of energy to put up any more resistance.

It didn't hinder her ability to hurl insults, though. "Bring it, then, Sparatus. I survived Mindoir and Akuze. I can certainly survive one more session with some mediocre turian cock," she spat. "Just know that I've had enough of being your political plaything."

He ran his fingers almost tenderly through her hair as he purred, "Then pray that you can one day escape me, _Belladonna_. Until then, mine will be the only cock that enters your body."

Without further warning, he plunged into her with one cruel thrust, burying himself deep enough to hurt her, and loving the sound of the cry that ripped from her throat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The staff lieutenant frowned down at the datapad in his hands as his brunch sat neglected on the other side of the table. Kaidan had never thought of himself as an unreasonable person. He'd always tried to be logical, sensible, and optimistic about every decision he'd made during his military career. Yet, "unreasonable" is exactly the term Captain Anderson had used to describe him earlier that morning during a video call.

"_This is the highly sought-after assignment you were interested in, Lieutenant," the captain had said. "You will be the biotic specialist on the _SSV Normandy_. Don't back out now."_

"_But sir," he had protested, "I've heard that Commander Shepard is a biotic herself."_

"_She is. Barely," Anderson amended, trying not to grimace at some distant memory. "The commander has many talents, but unfortunately, biotics is one she has largely ignored. That is why we'll need you to fill that role in this shakedown mission."_

He rubbed the back of his neck to ease the spreading tension before it blossomed into a migraine. The datapad listed everything he needed to know about the assignment, from details on the new prototype frigate to short dossiers on the crew members. Captain Anderson was the CO, and the rest of the crew had been hand selected by the Alliance Parliament to serve under him. At first, Kaidan had been thrilled to learn that he was among those chosen for this assignment, even if only for the fact that he was a functioning L2 biotic. But when he'd found out who the XO would be, he couldn't help harboring reservations.

He scrolled to her name on the datapad. Lieutenant Commander Belladonna Shepard. Born April 11, 2154. N7 graduate. Her most notable career achievement was coming out of Akuze alive. But other than that, there was no additional biography, no list of awards or honors. An extranet search twenty minutes ago had yielded the same results, and that only served to raise his caution. He had heard all the rumors: disciplinary problems, lack of professionalism, lesbian promiscuity, audacious combat style. But those weren't what concerned him.

For a marine with so few decorations and so little merit to her name, she had managed to attain the posting of second-in-command on a state-of-the-art starship like the _Normandy_ and even had the support of respectable officers like Captain Anderson.

"_Give the commander a chance, Lieutenant Alenko. She is more capable than what her records indicate. I will see you at Arcturus in two days."_

Kaidan leaned back in his seat, resigned. He wouldn't be able to shake his wariness of the commander right away, but if the captain backed her, then he would have to trust his judgment. Besides, he had never met the woman himself; she might surprise him. Settling on that, he pushed his worries from his mind and reached for his food.

Apollo's Café wasn't as busy as the dining establishments in the Wards, which suited him well since he wasn't much for crowds. He finished his brunch within minutes thanks to his biotic metabolism, and he sat around enjoying the sights after handing the server his credit chit. The outdoor layout and scenic view made for a peaceful atmosphere, and it was easy to see why Presidium residents always looked so relaxed as they went about their business. Dignitaries did tend to favor the lavish lifestyle.

Vaguely, he wondered why the Alliance had sent him to the Citadel instead of Arcturus to await orders. And for two weeks, at that. He appreciated the extended downtime, but he was ready to get back to work. Going too long without a clear task or objective inflicted restlessness and utter boredom. He was accustomed to keeping busy, focusing on a mission, exercising his biotics. That way his mind wandered less. He remembered his past less. He thought about Rahna less.

Shrugging away her memory, he accepted his credit chit when the server came back with it and started to gather his things. He had moved on, even if his friends and family didn't believe it, but some of the guilt over their falling out remained. Whether it directly affected his standards for romance was up for debate. He attributed his short history of girlfriends to his concentration on his work, or so he liked to say. In truth, he hadn't met many women who held his interest. Compound that with a job that had him serving on ships and there you have the explanation for his bland love life in a nutshell.

Just then, his omni-tool beeped at him. Glancing down, he opened the message from an unfamiliar sender.

_Lieutenant Alenko,_

_I hear you're on shore leave here on the Citadel and that you've been assigned to the _SSV Normandy._ So have I, and I ran into a few other people who are joining the crew. A group of us are going out for drinks tonight before we leave for Arcturus. If you're not busy, would you like to join us?_

_VR,_

_Corporal Jenkins_

Kaidan's mouth quirked into a grin. That was unexpected. Meeting some of the crew before they all reported in certainly beat his original plan of halfheartedly exploring the nightlife on his own. He sent a quick reply and checked the time to make sure he could still catch the next shuttle to Tayseri Ward, where the Alliance had assigned him quarters. Packing was a chore he'd put off until today, and now that he actually had plans, he intended to get that and his souvenir shopping over with before going out this evening.

He stood up, files and datapads in hand, and began to make his way across the courtyard to the elevator. A pair of bickering voices reached his ears before he rounded the corner leading to the bank, but the tones of dismay and irritation made it quite clear that it would be in his best interest to give the owners a wide berth.

"Really, Shepard? It's not even noon yet and you're already banged up."

"Not in the mood, Chellick."

"You know I can't keep turning a blind eye to your shenanigans."

"Try to arrest me again. I dare you."

"I might just take you up on that."

_Shepard_. Kaidan unconsciously slowed his pace, wanting to see if it was a coincidence. Couldn't be the same…

But lo and behold, the commander herself came into view, looking every bit as unruly as the rumors painted her, with a very annoyed turian C-Sec detective on her heels. Kaidan's step faltered as he kept himself from gawking in shock at the way her clothes were barely fastened, her zip-up jacket flapping open and hanging off one shoulder, her black tank top underneath not quite disguising the free bouncing of her modest breasts. Her belt was unbuckled and jingling noisily as her shorts clung tightly to her rear and hips, and she carried a pair of boots in one hand, completely barefoot.

Kaidan recognized her face from her picture in the Alliance database. He had heard that she was often mistaken for a man, but he sorely questioned that anecdote when his eyes strayed to the smooth, shapely legs that went on forever and glided across his vision. She moved with an odd gait, as if walking was uncomfortable, and as she came closer he could guess why. Her skin bore the evidence of some type of violent altercation. Besides the numerous slashes on her thighs and across her chest and shoulder, her bottom lip was bleeding and a nasty bruise had formed on the left side of her face.

The detective suddenly grabbed her wrist, sending her boots flying to land near Kaidan's feet.

"Hold on a minute," Chellick said, leaning toward her. Even as tall as she was, he easily dwarfed her in height. His nose twitched, as if sniffing the air, and when he drew back, his tone had gone from incensed to astounded. "Wait. You…"

She snatched her wrist back and turned on her heel, muttering something that sounded like, "Goddamn turians…" and marched away without another word, leaving Chellick to gape after her. Kaidan wasn't quite sure what happened, but he picked up her boots and held them out to her as she passed by.

"Commander."

She stopped, giving him an appraising glance that he met steadily. That is, until he realized what she looked like up close. Cut lip and bruised cheek aside, her features had a natural appealing quality that wasn't traditionally beautiful, but nonetheless striking. He quickly found himself drowning in her eyes, the darkest blue he'd ever seen—almost the color of midnight—and framed by long lashes that fanned out nearly to her prominently defined eyebrows. Small scars trailed across a straight nose and high cheekbones. Her jaw was broad, but its angle was delicate, and he couldn't decide if he found that attractive or confusing. She accepted her boots as he tried to pry his gaze away, aware that his bold staring would bring him trouble once she found out he was one of her subordinates.

And then she smiled.

Not the sort she was known for, that seductive tilt of her lips that promised fleshly sin in the dark hours of the night. No, this one was somewhat startling; at least to him, who knew her only through a single picture and a lot of disparaging hearsay. Her eyes softened, the crease in her forehead relaxed, and she smiled at him so gently that his heart stopped.

"Thank you." He barely registered her husky voice breathing the words before she was gone.

Now that he'd met her, to say that she surprised him was an understatement.

-x X x-

Shepard collapsed on the floor of the bathtub, resting her head against the cool tile wall as the warm spray of the showerhead rained over her and soothed the newest injuries sustained from the turian councilor's brutal lust. She shut her eyes as she felt his seed flow out from between her legs, hoping Nihlus wouldn't be able to pick up the scent of another turian on her after her shower. For the past several months she had managed to avoid encountering him each time she'd been with Sparatus, but through sheer statistics, her luck had finally run out. The thought of that confrontation weighed heavily in the pit of her stomach.

And then there was Chellick, who always overreacted to everything. He had detected the scent, though she doubted he could identify whose it was. From the very beginning, their relationship had been based on mutual exasperation. She would get caught in the middle of undesirable circumstances, he would interfere and nag her until she did something stupid just to annoy him, and the cycle would repeat. Given their identical capacity for stubbornness and their constant quarreling, she sometimes wondered if they were siblings in a past life.

After some time, she forced herself to finish showering and then stalked across the bathroom past the discarded spare garments Sparatus had given her for her walk of shame out of the Citadel Tower. It was disturbing that he had memorized her measurements and kept a stash of clothing in her size. In his office. She was also certain that he had his workplace soundproofed and the windows tinted since no one had come running during their noisy copulation. There was much circulating speculation regarding her sexual conquests, but curiously, the turian councilor never came up in any of them.

She cringed at her reflection in the foggy mirror, identifying the dark outlines of the angry welts and bruises on her body. Her left cheek was swollen and black and blue from when he'd struck her. Grabbing the medi-gel from the medicine cabinet, she applied it liberally to her wounds, taking great care in the one he'd inflicted on her intimate area. Dressing was a bothersome task that ended with her just wrapping a maroon bathrobe around herself. She exited the bathroom and took a few steps toward the kitchen, only to remember that the layout of this apartment was different from that of the other's.

She had opted to return to her apartment in the Presidium Commons instead of the one in the 633 Block. The Presidium apartment was bigger, nicer, safer, and the perfect place to retreat to when she wanted to be alone. It was where she kept all her military equipment and important personal belongings, as she never brought her lovers here. She gathered her bearings and proceeded to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water, her thoughts traveling to upsetting depths.

More than presenting Sparatus with the proverbial finger and calling his bluff on his threats, she was back to square one in her search for the specific group of slavers that had thrown her teen life into turmoil. In retrospect, she should have demanded copies of the progress reports from Sparatus' investigation team, for picking up the trail herself could have been possible. With a disheartened sigh, she brushed the missed opportunity from her mind and wandered aimlessly through the apartment, water in hand.

She hadn't been here since the beginning of her shore leave, and everything was just as she had left it, if a bit dustier. Her gaze fell on the boots she had dropped in the middle of the foyer, the sight sparking the memory of a pair of warm brown eyes. Whoever that man was, his kind and earnest face had been a welcome distraction from the dreadful progression of her day. He wasn't bad looking, either, and his build and posture implied that he was military. She definitely wouldn't mind running into him again in the future.

As she loitered in the living room, an antique picture frame hanging on the wall caught her eye, and she set her glass down as she approached it, her heart constricting. The discolored photo depicted two girls, one in high school and the other in elementary school, having fun in a wheat field. She glanced at her sixteen-year-old self before moving her gaze to the younger girl, whose long sable hair flowed out behind her in mid-jump, childish face alight with excitement as she called out to the sister figure waiting for her with open arms.

Shepard reached up to touch the girl's image on the rough paper. "Talitha…"

-x X x-

The Dark Star Lounge was loud, hot, and lively, which was just the way she liked it. She only wished she could remove the hoodie she was wearing, as it soon became a bit stifling when her gaze roamed over the swaying hips of the intoxicated women on the dance floor. A few spotted her by the entrance and beckoned her to join them. She couldn't recall if they were some of her previous lovers or not, but the way the redheaded one sent her a lewd and provocative gesture implied that at least she was. In order to avoid making an ass of herself and since she wasn't interested in that type of company tonight, Shepard signaled that she was headed for the bar.

Maneuvering around the mass of bodies scattered throughout the lounge, she found Nihlus already waiting for her at one of the tables, some type of blue dextro drink in his hand. He straightened when he saw her, his smile disappearing when he got a better look at her face.

"What the hell, Shepard?" was his greeting when she took the seat next to him.

She grinned wryly. "You don't want to know."

"Did you sleep with some crime lord's wife again?"

"Hey, that was _one_ time and I didn't know she was married," she huffed, searching for a server to flag down. "I don't make a habit of pursuing taken people if I can help it. I do have standards, you know."

"This is just my humble opinion, but you might want to consider raising your standards above picking up random women at bars."

"Touché."

He shook his head, reaching out to run the pad of his thumb over her bruised cheek. "In any case, I'm glad you could make it tonight."

"Of course," she said, wincing slightly at his touch. "As if I'd skip out on drinks with a dignified Spectre such as yourself."

His throat rumbled with a laugh and he withdrew his hand only to replace it briefly on her knee. "I see. Well then, what can this dignified Spectre get for you, Commander?"

"Oh, I—"

"Shepard!" she heard someone exclaim as a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind and a soft body wedged itself into the seat with her. She gritted her teeth as the physical contact stung her wounds. "I've missed you! You're coming home with me tonight!"

Nihlus watched in amazement as that single proclamation lured a few other women to their vicinity, all talking over each other as they vied for Shepard's attention. The commander, in a remarkable display of charismatic skill, sent them away one by one by addressing them and promising them sweet nothings for fewer than ten seconds each. Other club patrons, namely the gaggle of men nearby, observed the scene with various degrees of dismay. Once all her admirers had dispersed, she peered at Nihlus apologetically.

"Sorry about that. It happens sometimes when I come here," she told him, having the decency to look somewhat ashamed.

He only shrugged, thoroughly amused. "It's no trouble. How about I get you the usual?"

One could never go wrong with that. "Thanks," she replied as he caught a server making rounds and ordered her an old-fashioned screwdriver with an extra shot. The drink was in her hands within the next minute, courtesy of the asari bartender winking at her across the way.

"These women seem to have fallen for you," Nihlus commented, bringing his glass to his mouth.

He nearly choked on his drink when she stated, "They just want what my tongue and fingers can give them. They're not looking for my commitment."

"Is… is that so?"

She sipped on the screwdriver, relishing the taste of the orange juice and vodka, all too aware of his intense gaze on her. "It's all a shallow game, Nihlus. That's why I don't do relationships."

He studied her for a moment longer before facing forward and swirling the liquid around in his glass. "Hmm."

The music switched to an upbeat electronica selection and brought a flood of people to the dance floor. On any other night here, Shepard would have been acting the social butterfly, mingling with different groups of people and flirting up interested women. That wasn't to say she was always successful, however. She'd gotten slapped plenty of times, and prospective rivals occasionally tried to interfere with her evening ventures by picking fights. She indulged them sometimes when the mood struck her, but for the most part, she walked away. One-night stands were rarely worth the trouble.

The bartenders began to pick up the pace as more people arrived at the establishment and ordered drinks by the round. Shepard soon felt the familiar edges of a good buzz as she downed the last of her screwdriver, waiting before ordering another when she noticed that Nihlus wasn't even halfway finished with his drink.

"So what can you tell me about your last mission?" she asked him, disliking how quiet he'd gotten.

There was a pause before he glanced sideways at her, as if he'd been lost in thought and realized belatedly that a question had been directed at him. However, he answered, "It got stretched out far longer than necessary."

"Why's that?"

"I ran into a complication in the form of an asari justicar."

She laughed shortly as her index finger traced small patterns in the condensation on the table. "I bet as a Spectre you run into all sorts of people."

He was watching her closely. "Is that something you would be interested in?"

Her tracing stilled and she studied his face for the meaning behind the inquiry. "I… don't know. Why?"

He downed the rest of his drink in three gulps, slamming the glass down as the strong liquor went to work on loosening his tongue. "Councilor Tevos spoke to me this morning about the possibility of becoming your mentor," he said. His mandibles clicked together in agitation. "I assume it was Councilor Sparatus who told you about your nomination?"

So he had been aware this entire time. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Yes, that's right. He also made sure to share with me his immense displeasure at the prospect."

"Was that all that transpired between you two?"

Her shoulders tensed in alarm, a reaction she was certain he noticed. She tried to play it off by rotating one arm and pretending it was a muscle spasm. "Of course. He's an asshole and he knows what I think of him." From somewhere at the other side of the lounge, she heard a sudden chorus of cheering, but her focus remained locked on the turian next to her.

She started when he reached out and hooked a talon on the belt loop of her pants closest to her groin. "Then why is his scent all over you?" He tugged once, green eyes blazing. "And inside you?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The surprises just kept on coming.

"Shepard!"

For the second time that day, the sound of that name grabbed Kaidan's attention.

"I've missed you! You're coming home with me tonight!"

Despite the fact that his table, which seated at least eight marines, was among the loudest in the area, he heard the shrill female voice from clear across the lounge. While Corporal Jenkins delivered the punch line to his fifth joke for the night—each one progressively making less sense than the last—Kaidan took the opportunity to rotate in his seat and scan the premises. He spotted the commander sitting at a table on the other side of the bar, looking extremely pained as a pretty redhead squeezed into her chair and hugged her tightly. A few seconds later, Shepard was completely swarmed by women who had materialized from all directions.

He chuckled in disbelief, taking a swig of his beer and contemplating whether it would be appropriate to ask her for pointers later on. This was how he'd originally envisioned her, surrounded by a harem and not bothering to maintain appearances. Very poor XO material. Still, he couldn't seem to erase that smile she'd bestowed on him from his memory, not that he exactly minded. Her companion, an older turian dressed in black and red armor, was largely ignored and left off to the side by her zealous fans. Kaidan thought he seemed familiar, but then again, all turians looked alike to him and he couldn't place where he'd seen those colonial markings before.

His table abruptly erupted in strained courtesy laughter, and he turned back around to witness Private Fredricks shoving Jenkins' drink toward his mouth to put a stop to the latter's substandard comedic aspirations. The action was met with unanimous approval, and Jenkins compliantly sipped on the neon green beverage, managing to pout while doing so.

The service chief whose name he couldn't recall started to sing a marine cadence and was joined by a few others around the table until they realized it was a cadence for his home country of Russia. They all started to argue their individual patriotism, covering not only the countries on Earth but also the colonies scattered throughout Alliance space. It ended with them glancing at the various alien species present in the lounge, glancing back at their fellow man, and simply clinking their glasses together in cheers for humanity.

Kaidan grinned. They were a good bunch of people; smart, personable, and fun to be around. But considering that they'd all been selected for the crew on the _Normandy_, he didn't expect any less. These were the best of the best in the Alliance. War veterans, specialists, and distinguished medal holders. He was glad he came out tonight.

Serviceman Draven clapped a hand on his shoulder. "So Lieutenant Al… Alen… Alenenko? Aleneleko. Alelene… LT!" she slurred over the music, eyes slightly unfocused. "As the highest ranking Alliance officer here at the Dark Star Lounge, would you do the honors of leading us in a toast?"

The marines cheered to that, chanting various butchered pronunciations of his name and preemptively raising their drinks, sloshing liquid all over the place. Kaidan laughed, in high spirits.

"Well… I don't know about the highest ranking…" he began, facing Shepard's direction and about to point her out. "There's someone here who has me beaten in that regard—"

The words died on his tongue and his mirth vanished when his eyes settled on the scene happening at her table.

The women were gone, but Shepard's profile was chalk white as the turian towered over her, his talon latched onto the front of her pants. His stance radiated aggression even when his other hand came up to cup the uninjured side of her face, fingers stiff with concealed ire as they brushed over her skin. It looked like she was pleading with him, not in fear but in desperation, her full lips moving hastily to make him understand something. And when she placed her hand over his on her cheek and leaned into his touch, Kaidan was taken aback.

He started to wonder how much of her reputation was actually true. For one thing, it appeared that she wasn't just a lesbian. Even if he wasn't human, the turian was still male, and even from a distance he gave off a jealous vibe that Kaidan didn't think had anything to do with Shepard's female admirers. There was a certain gravity to the atmosphere surrounding them, filled with issues that the turian apparently decided they needed to discuss elsewhere. Drawing back, he jerked his head toward the exit, and at her nod they rose at the same time. He handed her his credit chit when his omni-tool flashed to signal an incoming call. After a few seconds of arguing, she reluctantly took the chit and stomped to the bar, presumably to close their tab.

Kaidan didn't notice Draven talking to him until she tapped his shoulder. "Um, LT?"

He whirled on her, startled. He'd outright forgotten about them. "Oh, sorry. What?"

"We didn't catch that last thing you said."

He snuck a glimpse at Shepard, deciding that now probably wasn't the proper time for them to meet their XO. Friendly as they were, their intoxicated states would most likely send them stumbling over to her to introduce themselves. It was an unspoken rule in the history of the military to refrain from becoming a nuisance to one's superior officers when they were feeling temperamental or otherwise pissed off, and Shepard's stony expression implied that she would throw down anyone who so much as looked at her funny right now.

And sure enough, when two human C-Sec officers—both men—showed up and started harassing her while she leaned on the bar counter, she curled her fists into the front of their uniforms and was on the verge of initiating a bar brawl. Only the shout of a third officer, another turian, halted the impending bloodshed.

"Ridgefield! Lamont! You're done for the night. I'm taking your asses home," he bellowed, grabbing them by the collars and yanking them out of her grasp at once.

"Fuck off, Vakarian!" one yelled before he and his buddy were sent flying across the floor.

The turian officer addressed her in a low voice, looking apologetic. Her features relaxed and Kaidan felt a brief stab of disappointment when she gave the officer the same tired but gentle smile she'd shown him earlier.

"…LT?"

"Sorry, it was nothing," Kaidan said quickly, returning his attention to his puzzled crew members. He cleared his throat and raised his glass. "So, a toast?"

It was impressive how quickly their enthusiasm returned. They whooped and raised their drinks again, some nearly empty from all the spilling.

He wracked his brain for something inspiring to say. "Uh… To the _SSV Normandy_, the most advanced starship this side of the galaxy; to Captain Anderson, our upcoming CO and reputable leader; and to us, the _Normandy_ crew and some of the best damn marines in the Alliance Navy."

They cheered and clinked glasses again, rallied by his words and choosing that moment to broadcast their newfound camaraderie.

"_Semper fi!_"

"_Do or die!_"

"_OORAH!_"

The reactions around them ranged from looks of confusion to complaints of, "Humans are so noisy." Kaidan just grinned again in amusement. Unfortunately for the rest of the galactic community, humanity was here to stay, and jarheads had a fetish for boosting morale as loudly as possible. When his crew members calmed down enough to either refill their drinks or head to the dance floor, he caught sight of Shepard watching him.

She met his gaze and he saw the recognition reflected in her dark blue eyes. He inclined his head and tipped his glass to her, but before she could give any sort of response, her turian companion in the black and red armor came up behind her and placed his hand on the small of her back familiarly. He barely spared Kaidan a glance as he began to lead her out of the lounge, nodding brusquely to the turian C-Sec officer who was now dragging his two resisting coworkers in the same direction.

Kaidan sighed once they passed through the doors and chugged the last of his beer. Belladonna Shepard had definitely piqued his curiosity. He might have liked getting to know his enigmatic XO a little better, if only he didn't have to fight through a multitude of women and turians to reach her.

-x X x-

The shuttle ride from the Mid-Ward District to the 633 Block had been tense and quiet.

_So much for getting rid of Sparatus' scent in the shower,_ Shepard lamented bitterly as they stepped off the shuttle. Turians' olfactory senses were more advanced than she'd thought.

As the neon lights of the surrounding buildings bathed them in flickering colors, Nihlus finally graced her with speech.

"That young officer—Vakarian, was it?—could smell a male on you as well," he told her, vocal harmonics flanging sharply as he gave her the turian version of the stink eye. "You shouldn't walk around wearing that scent, Shepard. Without the owner claiming you as a formal mate, it could be taken as an invitation."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm sure Chellick will bombard me with a similar lecture the next time I see him," she grumbled.

He kept his withering stare on her for a few more moments before taking her arm and leading the way through the streets. She decided against reminding him that she'd worn _his_ scent for a while after their night together. In all fairness, he had most likely believed at the time that a more permanent relationship would develop between them.

They proceeded past a few rundown storefronts and a HabCapsule center. She strode along passively even though his grip on her was a little too tight, wishing she'd at least gotten another screwdriver to give her a better buzz. And when he turned into a side road and headed straight for a familiar building, she wished she was outright drunk.

"Wait, how do you know where I'm staying?" she demanded.

"Spectre privileges. I keep tabs on you," he replied matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural thing to do. "Although, it is evident that I haven't been that thorough."

"Nihlus, that is beyond creepy."

And with that, she found herself standing in front of her own apartment while he used his omni-tool to access the lock. He stepped inside as if he owned the place, despite never having set foot there before (she hoped), and she had no choice but to follow. The strong smell of alcohol and musk greeted them as the automatic lights flickered on and illuminated the appalling state of the residence. It was a studio apartment featuring an open floor plan so the entirety of the devastation could be glimpsed all at once, much to Shepard's horror.

Empty liquor bottles and shot glasses littered every available surface of the kitchen and living area. The door to the bathroom was malfunctioning and trapped in a quivering mid-closed position. Handcuffs dangled from what would otherwise be a semi-classy chandelier. Shepard ran a hand over her face as soon as she saw the trail of underwear and stripper attire still left on the floor. Apparently, her most recent partners had either gone commando or streaking when they departed. The bed was the worst mess, featuring tangled sheets, ripped pillows, an assortment of erotic paraphernalia, and the mattress sliding halfway off the frame.

Nihlus' silence was both telling and frightening. He had ventured to the middle of the abode, wordlessly taking it all in as Shepard inwardly swore off women for the rest of this shore leave. After what seemed like an eternity, he slowly turned to her.

"Shepard." The single word held a myriad of emotions, primarily anger, disapproval, incredulity, and grief.

She had gone over to the small dining table to make a feeble attempt at clearing off the chairs. "I didn't have a chance to tidy up," she muttered sheepishly. "Maybe we should go somewhere else—"

"No. We're talking now." He advanced on her until she was trapped between himself and the table, his hands gripping the edges on either side of her. "What is going on between you and Councilor Sparatus?"

She gazed up at him, maintaining her composure at the close proximity even as her heart thundered in her chest. "The short version is that he had resources I needed and the only payment he would take was my body."

His mandibles flattened with a clack against his jaw. "How long has this been going on?"

"A little over half a year."

"So when you and I…?"

"Yeah. I'd already been with him."

He shut his eyes and lowered his head, the muscles in his shoulders tightening as his talons scraped against the wood finish of the table. "Is he the reason you've been turning me down since then?" he growled.

Shepard paused, not sure whether to confirm or deny it. She settled on simply stating the facts. "Part of the agreement was for me to avoid intimate contact with any male except for him. He's… a bit possessive."

Nihlus snorted derisively. "Turian nature. When we desire something, we want it all to ourselves. But he despises your species, so why is he concerning himself with a human?" He peered up at her. "Why you, Shepard?"

She shrugged helplessly, having previously asked herself these very same questions and coming up with no answer. Sparatus had been the one to approach her during one of her stops between missions at the Citadel, revealing his knowledge of her appeals to the Alliance to increase investigative efforts in the Terminus Systems. After the deal had been struck, she never did learn his motives beyond an apparent craving to sexually conquer a strong human female. It didn't matter now, anyway.

"Listen," she sighed, reaching up to tilt his chin toward her. "I found out this morning that his resources had failed. So I broke it off. It's over."

His eyes widened before narrowing skeptically. "Just like that?"

"He issued threats, of course. One of them involved your Spectre status."

Nihlus considered that before something promptly dawned on his face. "So that means he knows about what happened between us?"

"Yes."

His aggravation immediately dissipated as he fixed her with a predatory look. She stared back, keeping her expression carefully neutral.

As he straightened to his full height, one arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close. "Let's say that I'm not concerned with his threat on my position," he said, his voice dropping to a suggestive timbre. "And I'm assuming that you're no longer burdened by his demands."

"Nihlus…"

"Do you still intend to reject me?"

Sapphire eyes clashed with emerald, and she felt herself falling under his spell as her soft curves were pressed to the unyielding material of his armor. She had never been able to come up with an explanation for the magnetism between them. It simply existed, from the first time they'd met. And now that she was no longer confined to the stipulations of her arrangement with Sparatus, she wasn't sure what to do. Nihlus was making his intentions quite clear, and she couldn't think straight when he was bending forward and nuzzling her neck like this.

"I'm still going to want women," she told him breathlessly when his teeth grazed the sensitive spot under her ear.

He leaned back to give her an unsettling smile. "When I'm finished with you, that statement will be invalid."

Well, at least he was back to his usual cocky self.

She faltered, glaring at him. "You heard me mention earlier that I don't do relationships."

"I already know that you have a free spirit."

"So… what, you're saying you want to be fuck-buddies?"

"I prefer to call it a mutual understanding."

Another pause. "I feel weird around you."

He chuckled and leaned toward her once more. "The first truly honest thing you've said all night. Has it not occurred to you that perhaps that unattainable heart of yours has fallen in love with me?"

"Preposterous."

He grinned and pressed his mouth to hers in the way she'd taught him, prying her lips apart with his tongue and seeking hers out. She moaned into the kiss, abandoning all qualms as the traitorous organ between her legs took command of her inhibitions. His other arm came around to embrace her tightly, and her synapses were so flooded with dopamine that she barely even felt her wounds protesting the action. Her hands reached behind his neck to stroke the area under his fringe, and he growled deeply in his throat as the sensation signaled the plates in his groin to begin shifting.

The persistent scent on her was the only thing holding him back. Breaking the kiss, he tried to yank her hoodie up over her head while simultaneously rotating her toward the bathroom.

"Nihlus, what the fuck!" came her muffled exclamation from inside the garment.

"I can't stand his scent on you any longer," he snarled, the sound heavy with both lust and resentment. "I'm rinsing you off."

"But I already took two showers today," she retorted, successfully disentangling herself and tossing the hoodie away as he continued to steer her forward.

He solved the problem of the malfunctioning door by driving his fist into the access mechanism. A brutal tactic, but effective. The door obediently slid open as he started undoing her pants. "Well, hopefully you won't mind company for your third."

That seemed to placate her, and she stopped resisting as he led her inside and switched on the shower with one hand while the other dove straight into her underwear, wanting to feel her sex. Her unexpected yelp alarmed him, and he quickly retracted his limb when she jumped away.

Flushing, she stammered, "That area is more than a little tender right now. Sparatus really did a number on me this morning."

It was then that he noticed the numerous injuries on her skin, all irritated and glowing scarlet. One in particular caught his attention, and without thinking he grasped her tank top and tore it in half. As she objected to the destruction of another piece of her diminishing wardrobe, he examined the bite marks on her shoulder. The sight twisted his stomach and triggered a boiling pressure within his psyche that turned his vision red. They were the unmistakable claim of a mate. All at once, the noise of the running shower faded in the distance as his instincts and emotions overwhelmed his ability to reason.

She was frowning at him, perplexed. "What?"

"Shepard, tonight I can promise you pleasure beyond your wildest imagination, but this is going to hurt," he rumbled, looking more feral than she'd ever seen him. Losing all self-control, he held her in place as his jaws clamped down over the marks, replacing them with his own.

Her sharp intake of breath was all he heard as his plates gave way and released his throbbing member, eager to claim her for himself, free spirit be damned.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"_On Earth, there's a plant commonly known as Deadly Nightshade," said the man as he struck the stone along the blade of the scythe. An outdated sharpening method. "It's a beautiful plant that stands out among the rest, with large green leaves and plump berries. But its best feature is its flower. Delicate purple flowers shaped like stars."_

_The little girl watched him work on his farming tools from her seat on the rocking chair, hugging her knees to her chest as she listened with eagerness. It was one of the rare times he voluntarily spoke to her, and her heart swelled with delight. Plus, he was talking about flowers, one of her joys in life._

"_Hundreds of years ago, doctors used it to take away pain in their patients. Seers used it to give them visions. Women used it on their eyes to make them more beautiful." The loud clang of stone scraping against steel accompanied his monologue. "That's how powerful the influence of Deadly Nightshade was."_

_A dozen questions bounced around in her head._ Did the doctors use the plant like bandages? Was a seer something like a fortuneteller? How did women become more beautiful with it on their eyes? Why was the word "deadly" in its name if it did such great things?_ But she held her tongue, knowing better than to interrupt him when he was actually addressing her._

"_But despite its beauty…" he continued, sweat dripping down his face as he focused on his task. He had yet to look at her. "…It's extremely poisonous and has been known to harm people."_

_She frowned at that. _But then…

"_Patients became even more ill. Seers experienced frightening hallucinations. Women went blind. The plant, in all its deceptive loveliness, can hurt and kill you."_

_Her excitement receded, faded away into nothing. She tightened her arms around her legs, looking down at the gray surface of the patio floor. She didn't like this story._

"_There's another name for Deadly Nightshade," the man told her in a tone that was too casual. "It's also known as Belladonna."_

_She snapped her head up to gape at him in shock, and this time his dark blue eyes—mirrors of her own—were on her, their coldness seeping into her soul. A stifling sensation came over her chest and her mouth opened and closed, mute from the harsh revelation. But she'd promised herself she wouldn't cry anymore. He only ignored her more when she cried._

"_Mom didn't know all this when she named you, but the irony is that you're the sole reason she got sick and died." He had resumed his work, dismissing her feelings in less than a second. "And now I'm trapped on this colony with a sister who wasn't supposed to exist in the first place."_

_Something terrible welled up inside her, a tension clawing for release, stinging her eyes and tightening her throat. _Don't cry…

_Taking a shuddering breath, she asked, "Do you hate me, Alder?"_

"_Just don't give me any trouble when you start school and we won't have a problem." Words spoken without anger, without sadness, without emotion. He shot her an inscrutable glance. "And whatever you do, don't stand out."_

_She fidgeted in her chair, a small spark of energy unwittingly flashing across her fingertips in response. "I always thought flowers were supposed to make people happy…" she said timidly, voice hoarse from the effort of suppressing her grief._

"_Your namesake is a toxic plant. You're no flower in my eyes."_

Shepard dropped the glass vase into the trash receptacle, the satisfying crash reaching her ears as she slammed it shut and stalked away. The "gift" had been waiting for her outside her Presidium apartment. A large bouquet of exotic blossoms, all varying shades of violet and arranged in an aesthetically pleasing manner. If not for the witnesses walking around the corridors, she would have simply kicked it off her doorstep. Even without glancing at the enclosed card, she needed only one guess to identify the sender.

She moved with purposeful swiftness around the apartment, gathering her gear and checking her omni-tool for messages. Her late start that morning had placed her at approximately a half hour behind schedule. If she didn't hurry and get to the docking bay soon, her ride to Arcturus would leave without her, and even she wasn't willing to start off this mission with another official reprimand from Alliance Command.

Finally, she strapped her duffel bag to her shoulders and strode toward the door, relieved that the painkiller she had taken was kicking in. The small card on the floor caught her eye, and she realized it must have slipped out of the vase on its way to the garbage. Feeling a flash of irritation, she grabbed it and scowled at the message before tearing it up. Of course it was from him.

Only Sparatus knew.

She hated flowers.

-x X x-

Kaidan stepped off the elevator to what he hoped was C-Sec Academy. The layout of the surrounding area had been confusing, and it didn't help that the virtual map he tried to pull up on his omni-tool was under maintenance. He was already suffering a headache from the previous night's festivities. As the most sober person of all the crew members, he'd been bound by duty to drag eight hammered marines back to the Alliance barracks. This included the shit-faced Jenkins, who had taken up the turian bartender's bet of taking a shot of ryncol and spent the entire way home alternating between projectile vomiting and weeping in the fetal position. Suffice it to say, Kaidan's usual patience was wearing thin.

Fortunately, a large light-up C-Sec sign straight ahead told him that his frustration and confounded wandering were over. He followed the linear path down the ramp and through a set of doors that led to the main lobby. The place was filled with noise and uniformed bodies in constant motion. C-Sec officers passed by him without seeing him, engrossed in either their conversations or their tasks. Some were in the middle of arrests and were leading struggling, cuffed individuals to the holding cells. There was no receptionist in sight and all the personnel were too busy to interrupt for directions.

From what he remembered of Anderson's instructions, the traffic control station was somewhere upstairs. He took a chance on the corridor to the left, deducing that the staircase leading to the next level was a good place to start. The fluorescent lights illuminated his way, and he surveyed the various rooms on either side of the wide hallway once he reached the top. There were fewer people up here, most of them loitering in the break lounge. A tree with lavender foliage was growing in the center, and next to it was a loud argument between an anxious volus and an annoyed officer.

He glanced around and was about to walk up to a group gathered around the main seating area when one of the doors down the hall slid open.

"Don't worry, Chellick. I won't let you down," a copper-haired woman was saying as she emerged with the turian detective at her side.

"Good. I'm counting on you, Jenna." He nodded shortly and sent her on her way.

Although Kaidan typically couldn't tell one turian from another, he instantly recognized this one and hurried forward before he could return to his office. "Hey, excuse me," he called, ignoring Jenna's perturbed look as she passed him.

Chellick regarded him curiously as he approached. "Yes?"

"I need access to the traffic control station and was wondering if you could point me to its location."

The detective crossed his arms and pinned him with a sharp stare. "And you are?"

"Lieutenant Alenko with the Alliance. I was told I could verify tomorrow's flight schedule to Arcturus through traffic control."

"Alenko?" Chellick's brow plates drew together, and he motioned for Kaidan to follow him into his office.

The space boasted neat organization and sparse decoration. Terminals monitoring activity on all C-Sec posts throughout the Citadel lined the right wall. A table with a stack of hard copy paperwork and files sat on the left. Chellick took a seat at his desk at the far end of the room and began typing away as Kaidan came to a stop in front of him.

"Just confirming your identity, Lieutenant," Chellick told him, focused on his terminal. A few more seconds went by before authorization went through. "All right, it checks out. I'll list you for clearance to enter the station."

"Great. Where is it?"

"Just take a left out the door and the next set of stairs will lead you straight to it."

"Thanks." Kaidan took a moment to study the detective's face. Unable to help himself, he blurted, "You were with Commander Shepard yesterday, weren't you?"

Chellick blinked at him, evidently having no recollection of his presence at the Presidium Commons. "What of it?"

"Do you know what happened to her? Why she was bruised and bleeding?"

The detective's eyes narrowed in scrutiny at once, his mandibles tight and on guard. "You're inquiring about this because…?"

Kaidan shifted his position, uncertain."She's my XO for our next assignment and I'm a bit concerned for her."

And exceedingly intrigued by her. He couldn't very well add that, though, lest the Alliance brass catch wind of it and spam his inbox with copies of the fraternization regs. But what he said rang true. He was worried, more than about her competence as XO. Whatever disputes she was involved in seemed legitimately dangerous, and he found it impossible to sit idly by and keep to himself.

"It's not my place to discuss the commander's business, Lieutenant, especially in front of her subordinates," Chellick said with disapproval, his tone all but snapping, _you should know better_. "I would tell you to ask her yourself had you the nerve to do so, but she's already left for Arcturus."

"Oh. I see—"

"What?!" a new voice shrieked from the doorway. "You mean I missed her again?"

Kaidan turned to find a blond, goateed man hovering at the entrance to the office, peeking around the lieutenant to direct his stricken expression at Chellick. Clutched in one hand was a digital camera model that had gone out of production before the First Contact War, and in the other was what looked like an autograph book with an attached pen dangling by the string.

"And who are you supposed to be?" Chellick demanded.

"Conrad Verner. I'm Commander Shepard's biggest fan!" the blond man proclaimed with utmost enthusiasm. "Do you know if or when she'll be back?"

Chellick's temperament appeared to teeter at the limit of its civility. "Considering that she owns a residence here on the Citadel, I'd imagine she'd return eventually."

"Oh, in that case, I'll keep an eye out. The entrance to the markets should be a good bet. Thanks!" With a small wave, Conrad disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.

Kaidan continued staring at the doorway, torn between amusement and confusion.

"Why does everyone come to C-Sec to locate people?" Chellick muttered irritably. "As it turns out, Lieutenant, there was a woman over at the other office searching for you not too long ago."

That drew Kaidan's attention. He swung his gaze over to the turian, eyebrows raising. "Really? Who?"

Chellick held up a finger in a gesture to wait and activated his intercom next to the desk terminal.

"Officer Vakarian."

"Chellick."

"That's Detective Chellick to you."

"Chellick."

The detective swore under his breath. "Is that human woman looking for Lieutenant Alenko still there? He is here in my office now."

"Nope, she left a while ago after I told her we couldn't give out information on the whereabouts of Citadel residents or Alliance personnel. She didn't leave her name, either."

"All right." Chellick switched off the intercom and shrugged. "Unfortunately, you missed each other, but at least now you're aware."

Kaidan's brow furrowed. _Who'd be looking for me?_ "Yeah… thanks for letting me know."

"And now if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do."

Nodding at the dismissal, Kaidan thanked Chellick again and proceeded out of the room. A frown tugged the corners of his mouth downward as he ascended the staircase to the traffic control station, contemplating the woman's identity. Whoever she was, he hoped her presence didn't signify any trouble for him. He couldn't afford any complications through this next mission, which had his career in its palm and a lot riding on it.

-x X x-

Sparatus's talons dug into the surface of his desk as he glared at the holographic image of the salarian in the terminal. "Repeat that, Spectre."

"We lost the trail on the slavers after an unseen enemy sabotaged our systems," said the leader of his investigation team. "An enemy whose skills are on par with Kasumi Goto's."

Sparatus slammed a datapad down next to a large stack of files, working to reign in his fury. "Your obsession with that thief leads me to question your commitment to the task I've given you."

A noise of disgruntlement issued in response. "You should know, Councilor, that we found the girl. The only hitch is that the Alliance has her in their custody at this time."

The news pacified Sparatus enough to ease his temper in the slightest. He made to say something else, but a brief note from his secretary popped up to announce an expected arrival. Mandibles tightening against his face, he declared, "Very well, Jondum Bau. I will send you a message with your next set of instructions shortly."

Once he cut the communication, his office door slid open on cue. Nihlus Kryik entered at once, looking sharp in his armor and his confident stride. The tension thickened the air in an instant as the two males regarded each other with barely concealed aggression. Sparatus rose from his seat and drew himself to his full height as the other turian came to a halt at the opposite side of his desk.

"Councilor, I received your message last night, although it was unusual for you to call me at that hour," Nihlus remarked. "As you know, I'm about to head to Arcturus, so if we could keep this short…"

"Cut the formalities, Kryik. I am aware that you're the one responsible for putting Shepard's name forward for the Spectre candidacy," Sparatus snapped. "While you will be the one evaluating her in this shakedown mission, I intend to assign Saren Arterius as her mentor."

If he had been expecting any sort of reaction, he didn't receive one. Nihlus watched him in calculation, features and stance still collected. Then, as the recycled air breezed through the space, Sparatus caught a whiff of something faint. It was subtle and faded, but he recognized that scent anywhere. Muscles growing taut, he leaned forward and braced himself on his palms over his desk. For anyone else, the position would have been confrontational; for him, it was outright threatening.

"You were with Shepard," he growled, the connotation of the words well-understood.

Now Nihlus did react, lifting his chin and narrowing his eyes. "I was." The challenge in his confirmation was unspoken, but it resonated between them with a tangible force.

"I have already laid claim on her," Sparatus snarled. Possessiveness curled through his system, fueling his ire as he drafted ways to deal with Shepard the next time he saw her.

Nihlus dared to scoff before turning and stalking back toward the exit. "I'll take my leave now, if you don't mind, Councilor. Regarding Saren, good luck convincing Councilor Tevos to take me out of the running as Shepard's mentor." Once he reached the doorway, he peered back over his shoulder. "And about your claim on Belladonna… over my dead body."

Sparatus seethed in the quiet room long after his departure. "That can be arranged, Kryik."


End file.
